Walking from one end
of a London mall
to the other
is like a running
Hunger Games forest.
Stopping to get a snack
at a lovely supermarket
and we get attracted by big,
a piece of plastic
the size of a
typical computer mouse
a Barbie-portion tahini
and marble-sized falafel,
all for four pounds (double that for dollars,
Get a pain au chocolat,
get charged twenty six pounds and seventy five pence.
Remark, grinning nervously,
that inflation can’t be that bad,
can it? The teller made a mistake.
uncold to the harsh beauty of a city.
Wonder why it is that London
is like trying to convert religions sometimes,
but not being allowed into the shtetl.
But you don’t take it personally you see.
You remember that episode
of Family Guy
when Brian and Stewie
go to New York City
and a big flying green roaring dragon descends
from the sky and grabs them both with its claws,
carrying them into the sky.
We have strange relationships
with strangers and strange cities.
We can spend our days ignoring them,
walking past them and not catching their eye,
momentarily enticed by a magnificent badonkadonk
or even best a face to end all faces.
You are moving too fast for me
so I start to move faster and we
aren’t even talking we are just
racing each other to the till.
Because no one likes to queue.
Even though we’ve been trained.
But we love this city, somehow.
We are citizens of the world
and this city as much
belongs to you
as it does to me.
So we sit on stoops,
steps, and look up at buildings,
and the sky is in our hair,
and we (perhaps) wonder:
When did we get so close to the sky?